


mise en place

by wrasslesmut



Series: Food for Thought [1]
Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Eddie is such a soft man it kills me, F/M, give eddie and venom a hug challenge, reader is a chef
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrasslesmut/pseuds/wrasslesmut
Summary: Everything had it's place, and everything felt like it was in place when Eddie got to be with you.
Relationships: Dan Lewis/Anne Weying, Eddie Brock/Reader, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote/Reader
Series: Food for Thought [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2204430
Kudos: 10





	mise en place

It amazed Eddie that after hours of being on your feet and cooking for other people; dealing with likely shitty snobs of customers, and sous chefs that you weren’t particularly fond of, that you would come home and willingly cook for him. But you walked through the front door, headed for the bathroom, only to turn around to go back into the kitchen so you could preheat the oven. On your way into the bathroom for real, you’d instructed him to pull the potatoes you’d prepped in the morning out and put them on a sheet pan with some olive oil.

Of course, he listened, despite Venom’s question of why have you cook when they could just go out and eat a bad guy for dinner. His answer of “because we have a very sweet girlfriend who wants to cook for us” was enough of an answer for the Symbiote, but Eddie was almost certain that the tater tot relative sitting on the pan was what satisfied his counterpart more than your kindness towards them.

Once you were out of the shower, wearing a tshirt and jeans with the explanation that you needed to run to Mrs. Chen’s shop for a particular seasoning, he was reluctant to let you leave but only because he had no idea how to do what you did in the kitchen. You’d be gone for maybe ten minutes, but that was much too long for him to be responsible over the oven, so he pulls on his shoes and dutifully follows you out of the apartment and to the little market down the street. Mrs. Chen, as always, is happy to see you alongside the journalist, and you telling her that you tried some meditative techniques to keep calm in the kitchen clearly made her night as Eddie handed over a twenty and requested that she keep the change.

“Why do you do it?” he asks as you walk back to his apartment, his hand in yours and gently swinging your joined hands between your bodies. “You work all day, cooking for other people, but you want to cook for us after? Why? Aren’t you tired of being in the kitchen?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you chuckle, nudging his shoulder with yours as he lets out a chuckle. “But I like cooking for you, and I know your eating habits aren’t the best.”

“We resent that.”

“Name a vegetable, Eddie,” you challenge as he opens the door to the building for you, smirk on your face when he responds with “tomatoes”. “That’s a fruit, babe, but thank you for playing. When is the last time you had a fruit or vegetable that wasn’t prepared for you by me or snuck into your food by Ann?”

“She sneaks veggies into my food?”

“We _all_ sneak more vegetables into your food,” you respond, starting up the stairs in front of him and yelping slightly when he pinched your butt. “Asshole.”

“You love me, though,” he speaks with a grin, and you roll your eyes but continue up the stairs. “Let’s just order in, I’d rather not have you doing something you don’t really want to do.”

“Eddie, I _want_ to take care of you because I love you. End of story.” You give him only a moment to process that as you reach the fourth floor, taking his hand in yours before pulling him in for a kiss. “Now we’re going to go inside, and you’re going to work on that expose I know you’ve been putting off while I make our dinner.”

He keeps quiet, which you take for agreement as you enter his apartment. You go to the kitchen, and he appreciates the symphony that was you digging through his cupboards for skillets and cutting boards while he drops onto the couch with his laptop to get some work done. However, he still feels slightly guilty about you doing all of that just to take care of _him_ , so he gets up and makes his way to the kitchen to make another offer to call for a pizza or something so you wouldn’t have to cook.

“You are eating _real_ food tonight, Mr. Brock,” you comment, stilling your hand and setting the knife down when you felt his hands grip your hips to pull you back into his body. “They may not be as scrumptious as tater tots, but I’ve got the potatoes and some brussels sprouts in the oven for our buddy.”

“He likes when you cook,” Eddie murmurs, kissing behind your ear and grinning when he felt the shivers roll through your body. “But I like when I get to have you for dessert. Can we do that first, while dinner cooks?”

“Considering I actually have to _cook_ ,” you start, turning in his arms so you could warp your arms around his neck and pull him in close. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re mean,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Venom thinks you’re mean too.”

“Well seeing as I’m keeping you both fed and alive by cooking enough to feed a small army of picky eating kindergarteners, I think you _both_ can get over it.” Your quip is met by Eddie’s mouth on yours, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as his hands slide into the back pockets of your jeans to pull you in closer. His hands squeeze at your ass, relishing in the soft sigh you let out before one of his hands moves to slide under your shirt.

You pull back before he can unclasp your bra, gently chiding him for being so needy before you reach around him for your spatula so you could turn the chicken over. You hadn’t realized you’d be signing up for a second skin when you started dating Eddie; but you truly didn’t know what you would do without that warmth at your back consistently, his hands finding them home against your stomach beneath your shirt while his chin rests against your shoulder as he watches you work. He talks to you about his day as you cook, the new lead he was chasing and how he realized that he needed a haircut but was looking into maybe getting a new tattoo but wanted your thoughts on it before he went through with it. 

“What’s the tattoo?” you ask, pointing to the cupboard in a silent request that he pull a couple plates down. Him wanting your thoughts was interesting to hear, because it was his body and usually Eddie just went for it without much of a care in the world. It was part of why you loved him, but maybe this new tattoo had something to do with you and that was why he wanted your opinion first? The very thought meant the world to you, thinking that he wanted some sort of permanent reminder of you on his body.

“It’s a – uh – it’s a constellation,” he starts, setting down the two plates on the counter to your right. You hum, nodding when he offered to grab a couple beers from the fridge while you fixed your plates. “Ursa Major is your favorite, so I was thinking of that if you were cool with it.”

“You want my permission to get a tattoo that makes you think of me?” you clarify, bringing the plates to the small island and sitting on the stool next to his. He thanks you for dinner, stealing a kiss before taking a drink of his beer as you bring your fork loaded with brussels sprouts to his lips. “Why would I say no to that?”

“Because,” he starts before taking the food from your fork, and you take a bite for yourself as you wait for his response. “Tattoos are permanent, and some people get weird about that kind of thing. But, if you liked it, I was gonna ask if you wanted to get matching ones with me.”

“Eddie,” you start, taking a drink of your beer and watching as he toyed with his chicken while he watched for you to respond.

Internally you were over the moon. After Annie, Eddie hadn’t wanted to be as open about his feelings because he didn’t want to fall too deep too fast and end up ruining it all. You’d dated for eight months before he’d felt comfortable enough to tell you that he loved you to your face and not when he thought you were sleeping or not paying close enough attention to hear him say it. You needed to know that he was sure about this, but you could tell by how nervous he was that you didn’t need to ask.

“I’m assuming you’ve already doodled this one out?” you ask, smiling in an effort to assure him that you were okay with the idea. It was a sweet gesture, and you loved him so much that getting a tattoo felt like a no-brainer.

“Spent more time doing that than working on my expose,” he admits with a sheepish smile, and you sigh as you feed him another bite.

“Edward Charles Alan Brock, that expose deadline is in _four_ days.”

“I’m a master journalist.”

“You are a master moron,” you counter with a laugh, only to be cut off by him shoving a brussels sprout into your mouth. “Hey!”

“Still gonna get a tattoo with me?”

“Are you going to behave?”

“You know I can’t behave around you, sweetheart,” he tries to charm, only to have to pause before shushing his Symbiote. There’s another pause, and you can’t help but laugh when he rolls his eyes. “It was _my_ charm that got us that date, she didn’t even know you existed until about two months in, buddy.”

“Boys stop fighting,” you request softly, pulling Eddie in by his necklace so your foreheads were connected. “I love you, Eddie Brock.”

“And I love you,” he murmurs, kissing at the corner of your lips with a smile. “So, so much.”

“Make the tattoo appointment, I’ll get the time away from the restaurant.”


End file.
